The Pirate's Princess
by fandom-hermit
Summary: In a steampunk victorian world that's overrun by pirates, Pricess Clarke Griffin escapes from her dark home to end up on a pirate ship. Not just any pirate ship, Bellamy Blake's 100 pirate ship. Under the scrutiny of the captain, and running from her past, can Clarke do what needs to be done to survive? T for language and violence. Slowburn Bellarke
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Here's a steampunk-y pirate slowburn bellarke au that I couldn't get out of my head, and who doesn't love pirates? So little background I guess, Clarke is the runaway princess and Bellamy is the pirate "king" so yay! I'm planning on this being a long slowburning angsty story, so stay tuned! Since I'm also slowly working on a different story for another fandom, updates will be a little slow but I will try for once a week or once every two weeks. Thanks! I hope you enjoy, and please read!**

CHAPTER ONE

Clarke walked calmly down the pier towards the ship she'd been directed to buy some sailors earlier that day. According to her sources, the ship she was walking towards was a cruise ship heading out of the kingdom- which was where she needed to be. This information had cost her a pretty penny, however, and Clarke was starting to run out of pretty pennies. It was stupid to carry as much gold on her person as she was, but she didn't want to risk having to beg or steal for basic necessities. It was a wonder no one had recognized her yet, she didn't need to become an outlaw when she was already a fugitive. Trying not to wince, Clarke ignored the burning pain in her abdomen and stood with perfect posture as she had been taught in years of etiquette lessons. So what if she was wounded, she was royal and would walk as such.

"Is this the Phoenix?" Clarke asks a crewman as she walks up to the ship. The man is carting crates onto the ship along with some other members of his crew. He's dressed in a smart white uniform, and has a gun strapped to his leg. Clarke eyes the gun warily, but puts on her "princess smile", the one that she had been raised to use when in the company of nobility or other such high esteemed people.

"Yes it is ma'am. Can I help you?" The crewman asked, looking over her fancy petticoats with an approving glint. Clarke resisted the urge to tug her cloak in closer, and instead she smiled at the man.

"I was wondering if it were possible for me to buy passage on your vessel. I hear you are heading toward the Southern Kingdoms, and I would like to join." Clarke says sweetly.

"Well, ma'am. I'm not sure if we have an empty cabin, but I can take you to the captain." The sailor said warily. Clarke just curtsied, letting out a sharp gasp of pain at the movement, and smiled again.

"That would be wonderful, if you don't mind." The sailor gestured for Clarke to follow him, and she walked up the tall gangway and onto the large ship. Clarke's bag bounced against her thigh as she trudged up the wooden plank. Her relatively small bag was the only thing she had brought with her, it had a few medical supplies and some extra clothes but that was it. Clarke looked up at the large ship in awe. There were two stories, that Clarke could see, and it was one of the biggest luxury ships she had ever seen. It was almost as big as a Royal Battleship. The sailor led Clarke to a cabin that was labeled "Captain's Quarters" and he knocked on the door. The door opened, revealing an older man, Clarke assumed he was at least fifty, wearing a stark white and blue uniform with gold bands on the shoulders. He had a beard that presented how much he valued cleanliness based on how well groomed it was.

"What is it?" He asked gruffly, looking Clarke up and down.

"Sir! This lady would like to buy passage on our ship to the Southern Kingdoms." The sailor said with a salute. The captain nodded and gestured to the sailor to get back to work. The sailor left without looking back. Clarke swallowed heavily and turned to the Captain with another charming smile.

"What takes you to the Southern Kingdom so urgently, miss?" The captain asked.

"I'm afraid my great-aunt has fallen ill. She's a Duchess is one of the kingdoms, and I have been asked to visit her for her last moments and take her place in the household." Clarke recited. She made sure to cast her eyes down in sadness and wring her hands together. She had practiced her story in the days before she had escaped, and knew exactly what to say to win over the Captain of a luxury ship.

"I see. That is unfortunate. I am very sorry to hear that. I believe we may be able to house you on your journey. My name is Captain Ward, and this is my ship, the _Phoenix._ May I ask for your name?" Captain Ward asked, bowing down respectfully.

"Of course. My name is Francesca. Francesca De Moines. It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Ward. I am so very thankful for your help. May I ask the cost of my shelter?" Clarke replied smoothly.

"Ah yes, of course. From here to the Southern Kingdoms is a long journey, about a month and a half. Your fare will include housing, food and water, and protection. There have been more and more pirate attacks lately, buy you need not worry my dear. We are very well equipped to handle such a threat. I'll let you pay half now, and half when we reach your destination. So your first payment will be one hundred Silvings."

One-hundred Silvings? That was ten gold coins worth! Even for this ship, that was asking for a lot. Clarke couldn't let the captain see her hesitate though, since he believed she was part of a wealthy noble family.

"Of course. Here you are." Clarke said with a smile, pulling out ten gold coins from her hand purse as if they were nothing. The captain took the coins with a wide grin and welcomed Clarke to her new home. Well, at least for the next month and a half. When Clarke had finally locked herself inside her new cabin, she leaned against the door and groaned. She was standing in a good-sized room, just big enough for one person to live in without feeling too cramped. There was a small bed in the corner under a porthole, and a door led to what she assumed to be the bathroom. The room was nice, but definitely not worth ten whole gold coins. Sighing, Clarke peeled off the heavy layers of her dress and limped into the bathroom. Red had soaked through the pale white under-dress Clark been wearing. Swearing, Clarke lifted the dress to reveal her blood soaked bandages. It looked like she had opened her stitches with all the walking around she had been doing. Clarke unbound the gauze from her torso to inspect her wound, the memory of how it had been inflicted flashing to the front of her mind.

_Clarke had made it out of the outer wall, and was running through the busy city streets. Panic and adrenaline was the only thing keeping her moving at that point, and she needed to find a place to hide before she was caught, or collapsed. Clarke ducked through an ally way and onto another less-crowded street. Clarke slowed down to a brisk walk, her heavy dress weighing her down and the skirts swished obnoxiously, limiting Clarke's movement. Clarke took a deep breath and counted to sixty. After reaching sixty, Clarke relaxed a bit. Maybe she had lost the Guards. Right as the thought crossed her mind, Clarke heard yelling from behind her. _

_ Stealing a look over her shoulder, Clarke saw a few members of the Guard pointing at her and running. Clarke clenched her jaw and started to run again. She saw the townspeople stare at her curiously. Seeing a teen girl wearing the most expensive clothes money could buy and running of all things in them was bound to shock some people. Stares were the least of Clarke's worries right now, however. Clarke heard more yelling, and a gunshot rang through the street, shocking both Clarke and the citizens. Clarke ducked instinctively and turned around. One of the Guard had pulled his gun and was aiming right at Clarke. Dread filled her heart as she realized that because of what she knew, her mother was willing to have her killed. _

_ "Get out of the way! Run!" Clarke yelled, waving her arms at the people in the street. The Guard took advantage of Clarke's position and took another shot, this time hitting his mark. The bullet tore through Clarke's side, passing right through the first inch of her gut, coincidentally right across from her belly button. Clarke screamed in pain, but forced herself to crawl along the street towards a crowd of people, where she had a chance of blending in. Luck was finally on her side, and the Guards walked right by her. Wincing, Clarke limped over to a merchant stand and swiped a dark cloak from off the table. She felt bad for stealing, but she needed the cover the cloak provided. Clarke hid in an ally way and took off the top layer of her dress, which luckily hadn't been stained by any blood yet. Clarke felt around the wound from the front and the back and was happy that the iron casing had gone right through her._

_ Clarke tore a hunk of cloth from one of her many dress layers, and stuffed it in her mouth. What she was about to do would be very painful. Clarke never left the castle without medical supplies, a lesson from her Master, and she pulled a needle and thread out of her bag. Grimacing, Clarke made sure no one was around before threading the needle and hooking it through her skin. The makeshift gag muffled Clarke's screams, and she clumsily sutured her wounds. _

Clarke was jolted out of her reverie when the ship started moving. Stumbling, Clarke made her way to the porthole and saw the port slowly fading away into the distance. Clarke stood in front of the porthole until all land had completely disappeared from sight. Clarke sighed in relief. She made it. She had finally escaped the Arc, and could finally start her plan to get justice for her father's murder. Smiling, Clarke once again pulled out the bloody needle and stuffed a wad of cloth in her mouth again. Time to repeat the process. Gasping, Clarke sewed herself back together without a sound.

After eating some dinner in her quarters, Clarke had finally fallen asleep when sounds of alarm filled the air. Jumping up quickly, and immediately regretting her decision after the pain flooded her body, Clarke ran over to the porthole and gazed out into the night. A dark shape blocked out the light of the starts and part of the dark ocean. Squinting, Clarke tried to make out what the thing was. Suddenly, a ray of moonlight lit it up, revealing a ship. Not any ship, however. Clarke groaned when she saw the pirate flag swaying in the wind. Just her luck. Clarke stood at the window, rubbing her sleepy eyes to try and convince herself she was dreaming, or that it was all a terrible hallucination, but the ship still floated on the horizon, slowly but surely making its way to the cruise ship. Cursing, Clarke wobbled over to her suitcase, looking to see if she had packed a simpler dress. She might be able to pass of as a servant on the ship if she could get the damn dress off.

Clarke gasped as all of her movement caught up with her, causing her wound to throb in painful protest. Gritting her teeth, Clarke pushed through the pain to gather her things. Clarke tore off another strip of cloth and tied it around her upper thigh. She took her coin purse and slipped it between her thigh and the cloth, and then she wrapped more cloth around it to secure it to her leg. She would have slipped it into her corset, but if the ship was about to be taken by pirates, there was sure to be some unsavory types that would even "search" her bosom. Clarke stripped down to her under dress, which was still made from fancy silks, but not as noticeable as the layered petticoats. She pulled on her cloak and stuffed her med kit into one of the inner pockets. Clarke looked around for some kind of weapon, cursing her stupidity for leaving the palace without a knife, or even a gun. She stumbled around the cabin, her vision cloudy and head dizzy.

"…lost a lot of blood, need iron…" Clarke mumbled. She reached into her bag clumsily and pulled out a bag of herbs. She dug through the herbs and grabbed a known plant that helped wounded soldiers last longer in the battlefield. It had been developed in a lab during the Great War and Clarke was lucky to have some. She tore off a chunk and stuffed it in her mouth. The leaves were bitter and Clarke almost threw up what she had eaten for dinner. Clarke then looked through the bag for capsaicin, a painkiller. She grabbed a tiny amount, not wanting to waste any just yet, and quickly swallowed the ground up plant.

Clarke felt a little better as the drugs took effect, but her gut clenched as she heard a cannon shot. Shouts echoed throughout the ship, and Clarke looked out the porthole again. The pirate ship was docked right next to _The Phoenix_. She could hear the shouts of the pirates through the ship and sweat dripped down her brow. Another shot rant out, this time hitting the ship. Clarke struggled to keep her balance as the ship rocked from the momentum. Judging from the sound and turbulence, the cannonball must have hit somewhere close by. Clarke rushed out of her cabin and into the crowded hallway. Women in their fine silk nightgowns and slippers cried out, and the men grumbled but had a worried look on their faces. If the captain or someone didn't do something soon, panic would spread and cause chaos.

Clarke hoped for some chaos so she could slip away unnoticed and try to find a place to hide. Loud thuds sounded from above them, followed by loud bellows and gunshots. The pirates had boarded.

Clarke pushed against the screaming mob and ran towards the sounds of fighting. She clutched her injury, a grimace marring her features. Scowling, Clarke forced her way through frantic, panicky women and men, making her way to the front deck. Her coin purse jangled against her thigh, and Clarke reached under her skirt to tighten the cloth around it. A stray elbow jammed into Clarke's wound, making her fall to her knees. Tears burned in her eyes, and Clarke scooted over against the wall to try and get out of the path of the stampede of panicked passengers. Bags and flying limbs smacked into her, creating a relentless barrage of pain. Clarke slowly opened her eyes when the clamor stopped. All of the wealthy passengers were frozen in the hall. Clarke heard triumphant shouts from above, and knew all was lost. She pulled her hand away from her chest, and winced. Her hand was sticky with blood, and the cloth of her dress pulled away with her hand, stuck to the drying blood.

Panting, Clarke pushed up against the wall, using it as support for her aching body. She heard whimpering and then the loud thump of footsteps trudging down the stairs from the main deck. The steps kept in time with her heartbeat, _thump-thump-thump. _Clarke saw a man descend from the stairs, but the crowd clouded her view. All she saw was a clump of dark brown curls and a smirk. _Great. A cocky bastard, _was Clarke's first thought.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The man chuckled sarcastically. "It looks to me, boys, that we happened upon a _luxury cruise ship_!"

Chuckles echoed from behind the man, as more pirates filled the already crowded hall. Clarke looked around to see that the passengers were surrounded by pirates- a band of them blocking each exit.

"Now, all I really ask, as a simple _businessman_, is for you all to hand over your valuables without a fight. I'm only lookin' to make honest money." The man declared, his deep voice echoing throughout the silent corridor. His cohorts laughed again.

"Who do you think you are, you pirate?" A man spat. _Stupid._ Clarke thought. Don't provoke the gun-toting maniac.

"I think I am in charge of this vessel now, and that you should listen to me." The man stated simply. Clarke heard the sound of a sword being drawn, and her blood ran cold. A gurgled cry rang through the ship, and Clarke heard the thump of a body hitting the ground. Clarke couldn't see through the mob of people, but what she heard made her blood run cold. A woman cried out, but otherwise the ship was deathly silent.

"Any more objections?" The voice asked, only to hear silence in reply.

The pirates pooled the passengers out onto the main deck and into the cool night air. The cold wind felt good against Clarke's burning skin, and she drank in the fresh air. Loud shouts and bangs could be heard from bellow deck as the pirates ransacked the ship. Every once and a while, a pirate would emerge from the bellows of the ship with a sack filled with valuables. Clarke could see _The Phoenix _crew tied up against the different masts, each stripped of any and all possible weapons. These pirates were thorough, that was for sure.

"Alright ladies and gents. Time to take off all your shiny things." A pirate said with a devilish smile. He had goggles resting on top of his head, and a young Asian man followed him around with a cheery smile. The goggled pirate walked through the crowd of passengers with an open sack, the passengers slipped off their rings and watches, necklaces and bracelets, and slowly dropped them in the sack.

"What about you, pretty lady?" Got anything shiny for us?" Goggles asked, stopping in front of Clarke. Clarke glared at the pirate and raised her hand from within her cloak to flip him off.

"Wow. We gotta feisty one here." The Asian man whistled. Both the pirates gave Clarke a once over, and their eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Now what's a pretty girl like you, doing on a ship like this without anything shiny?" Goggles asked.

"Just a simple maid trying to earn a living. Just like you." Clarke spat. Chuckling, Goggles looked at his friend, who nodded.

"Hey Capt'n! I think you should come over here for a second!" Goggles yelled. Panic and adrenaline coursed through Clarke's veins. Shit. She shouldn't have flipped Goggles off, she should have just laid low and given him her necklace or something. That's when Clarke remembered that engraved on her locket was her family seal. The _royal_ seal. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping Clarke from passing out, and she definitely had enough adrenaline to stand tall at the moment.

"What's wrong, Jasper?" A deep voice asked. The crowd of passengers parted, revealing a tall man sauntering down towards her. The man had dark curls, and Clarke thought she saw freckles dotting his face in the moonlight. He was over a head taller than her, and had a rapier strapped to his belt. His leather boots pounded against the wooden deck, his dark coat flapping around his legs. Clarke took note of the gun secured to his hip. Guns were hard to come by, even for the Royal Army it was rare for a soldier to own a gun. Clarke jutted out her jaw and glared at the pirate captain.

"This lady here claims to be a maid. And she doesn't have anything shiny." Goggles, or now Jasper, said. Squaring her shoulders, and ignoring the pain in her stomach, Clarke scowled at the captain.

"Oh, does she now? What makes you so special, princess?" The captain said. Clarke's heart stopped at the nickname, until she realized that he was trying to insult her. Smirking, Clarke's eyebrow rose and she looked the man up and down.

"Nothing. Just working my way to the South." She said. Breathing was starting to hurt, and Clarke knew that she wasn't going to last long in her current condition. The captain laughed and smacked Jasper on the back.

"You always find the interesting ones, don't you?" He said. Clarke struggled to keep her eyes wide open and locked on to the captains.

"Don't worry, Cap. She's bound to be hiding something." The Asian boy said with a shrug.

"Girl like that don't take a ship like this as a maid."

"You're right, Monty. What are you hiding, huh princess?" The captain asked. He slowly stepped closer and closer to Clarke until he was toe to toe with her, looming over her shaking frame.

"I have nothing to hide." Clarke growled. The captain smiled with false charm and grabbed her necklace and tugged it off her neck with a snap. He looked down at the seal, then back at her. She clenched her jaw, and resisted the urge to crumple into a ball and scream. The captain must have seen something in her face, for he squinted and looked down at her chest. Clarke clenched her fists tight enough to draw blood from her palm as an attempt at distracting herself from the pain in her side. The herbs were wearing off, or she didn't take enough to help. Sweat dripped down her brow, and the Captain's eyes widened in realization. He reached for her cloak and slowly opened it, ignoring the chuckles from his crew- who had gathered around to see what the fuss was all about.

Clarke heard the captain's intake of breath when he saw her blood soaked dress.

"Well shit." He murmured.

"Fuck, what the hell?" Clarke heard Jasper mutter from behind the captain.

"Take her to the ship! Grab all you can, we're leaving!" The captain shouted.

"What? But we don't have everything yet! Why are we taking her? Just leave her to die!" Jasper shouted back. The captain looked down at her necklace, then back at Jasper, who paled underneath his Captain's gaze.

"I said, pack up. We are leaving." The captain said slowly. Jasper nodded and waved to the rest of the pirates to start ferrying the sacks of gold onto the pirate ship. Clarke panted tried to turn and run, but only succeeded in falling to the ground with a groan.

"Oh no you don't, sweetheart. You're coming with us. We have a lot to discuss." The captain said, picking her up and throwing her across his shoulder. Clarke cried out in pain, and remembered only the ocean waves crashing against two ships as she was carried across a gangplank and onto a pirate ship.

Clarke drifted in and out of consciousness, images of a beautiful, angry, freckled face floating though her mind. Clarke slowly slid out of her slumber and felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Her eyes blinked open slowly, meeting the dark wood of a ceiling above her and she groaned. Her entire body ached. She turned her head to the source of the light and saw a porthole with the sun shining through it. Squinting, Clarke slowly sat up, hissing in pain as her wound stung. She lifted the blankets lying on top of her to look at her now bandaged chest. She touched the tightly wound wrappings, impressed at the skill of her healer. She sat up completely and turned away from the window, her feet touching the cool wood floor. She moved to get up from the bed, but stumbled when her left hand was yanked back.

"What the…" Clarke muttered, looking over at her hand. A metal cuff encircled her pale wrist, attached to some chain, which was then wrapped around the bed frame. Scowling, Clarke dug around in her hair for a pin, smiling in triumph when she found one still stuck in her blonde hair.

"Captain, where do you think you're goin'?" Jasper asked, following after the tall frame of his captain.

"I heard something from the girl's quarters." He replied, gruffly. Rolling his eyes, Jasper ran to keep up with the long strides of the Captain.

"Obviously you heard something. What else would a girl do except scream when she wakes up strapped to a strange bed? Wouldn't you?" Jasper yelled after the man. The Captain just turned around and glared at Jasper. He stopped in front of one of the doors in the corridor, and pulled out a key from one of his many pockets. He gestured to Jasper to stand back, and he knocked while opening the door.

"Princess? You awa- oww! What the fu-" Came the loud shouts from within. Jasper rushed in, his hand on his sword, but stopped when he saw the scene in the room.

"This, this is- you are _never_ going to live this down, Cap." Jasper chuckled. When the Captain had opened the door, Clarke was waiting and had smacked him upside the head with a chunk of wood that was once the bedpost. After he had gone down, she'd jumped around him and held him in a strangle hold with the chain while strapping the metal cuff onto his wrist and hooking the chain around the bed frame.

"Shut up Jasper, get me out of this thing." The Captain ordered, refusing to meet Jasper's gaze.

"Who are you? Where am I? What's going on? Don't come any closer!" Clarke exclaimed. She lifted her makeshift club and waved it at Jasper, who raised his arms in surrender.

"Easy there, Princess." The Captain said from the floor.

"Don't call me that!" Clarke spat, pointing the club at him. She backed away from the men and stopped when her back hit the far wall by the window. Panting, she clutched her stomach.

"Hey, you need rest. Just lay back down and we'll talk, kay?" Jasper said calmly. The Captain was sputtering out a creative curse and unlocking the cuff with a key Jasper had thrown to him.

"Listen to me, Princess. We're not here to make you feel a nice and fuzzy. We are _pirates_ and we just looted the ship you were on! You are wearing an interesting necklace, and I want to know who you are. So. Put down the bed frame, and sit down!" The Captain yelled, walking closer and closer to Clarke as he spoke until he was, once again, toe to toe with her. Clarke actually growled at the man, and stepped up so she was right in his face.

"Make me." She said darkly, before fainting, for the second time, into his (very muscular) arms.

Clarke woke, once again, strapped down to a strange bed. The difference this time was that she had a cuff on each wrist and they were wrapped around the bars on the porthole and then tied to a newly installed metal bar on the floor. Sighing, Clarke sat up to face the stern face of the ship's Captain. He was sitting on a chair that was placed right up against the foot of Clarke's bed.

"So. Nice place you've got here. Really liking the bdsm feel." Clarke spat sarcastically. The Captain's lips twitched and he took a deep breath.

"Very funny. You going to talk now?" He asked simply. Clarke raised her chin in defiance and stared down the Captain. He stared right back, and they sat staring each other down for a few minutes.

"I stole it." Clarke said.

"The locket? As if. It has a royal seal." The captain scoffed.

"So? I still stole it. Got it from a room on a ship in a port."

"Really? Just happened upon a _royal _important enough to have the _royal seal_ embossed on their locket?"

"I'm pretty lucky."

"Nobody's that lucky." The captain sat back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

"Say that I believe you, which is a long shot. What are you going to do now, since you are on my pirate ship now." He asked. Clarke looked out the porthole, noticing how far down the sun had gone.

"Survive." She replied quietly, turning to meet his dark eyes. The Captain stood up and unlocked Clarke's wrists. Rubbing the tender flesh, Clarke stood up and looked at the man questioningly. He nodded for her to follow him and left the room. Clarke hurried after him. They walked through many different halls before ascending a staircase. Clarke gasped when she felt the fresh sea air on her face. The cool wind blew caressed her skin and Clarke smiled.

"Welcome to my ship. We're in need of another crewman, if you're up to the task, that is." The Captain said, waving his arms to show off the main deck.

"What's in it for me?" Clarke asked.

"Just like a pirate already. Well, you get food, shelter, and a job. What else are you going to do. Where else are you going to go?" Bellamy asked, nodding towards the seemingly endless ocean around the ship. Clarke didn't have much of a choice. It seemed as if she was to become a pirate, which was probably better than the palace at this point. She nodded at the Captain, and walked to lean on the railing, her wound stinging. The Captain smiled and spread his arms wide.

"Welcome to the crew. We're the 100, and I'm the Captain. You can call me Bellamy."

**Alright! What did you think? Reviews and favorites will determine whether or not I continue this little story!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! This took longer than I planned, but the holidays and return of school slightly restricted my writing time, but I have a chapter for you! In this one, I expanded more into Bellamy's perspective ish, but I don't know how I feel about it, so let me know in the reviews! **

**As always, reviews are welcome! I live off of them.**

**Disclaimer: I sadly do not own The 100, only my storyline**

Clarke knew that her new captain was a petty asshole, but this was icing on the cake of douchery. Not only was she practically his slave since being taken in, but she was constantly degraded by the other members of the crew. After Bellamy's dramatic welcome speech, she'd been strapped back down in her bed and ordered to get rested for the most work in her life-and exact quote from the Captain. All she'd done for the first week was clean and get in the crews way and be _useless._ Lying in bed that first night, Clarke struggled to fall asleep. Her wound had been hurting her all day, so she decided to take matters into her own hands. She sat up and lifted up her dress, using only the light of the moon reflecting off the water for light. She'd unbound her gauze and inspected the wound to the best of her ability. It looked like whoever had stitched her up had known what they were doing, except the wound itself was oozing pus around the sutures and had a strange discoloration.

The wound was in danger of getting infected, and needed some sort of disinfectant. Clarke tried to get enough slack from the chains to get to the door, but to no avail. She stamped her foot and groaned.

"Hey! Captain Asshole! I need something alcoholic! Get me rum or something! I'm sure you pirates have something with alcohol in it, don't you?" She screamed. She waited for a few more minutes, and then heard stumbling and muttered curses.

"What the hell are you yelling about?" Bellamy asked as he opened up her door.

"I need beer or rum or something." She replied.

"If you wanted something to drink, princess, you could've just asked-what are you doing?" Bellamy had drawn a flask from his overcoat-which was thrown over his cotton pants. Clarke had snatched the flask from his hand, opened it, and was now pouring the liquid on her wound with an audible hiss.

"Ouch, that stings. Oh, I needed it to disinfect my injury." She said, handing the now empty flask back to the befuddled captain.

"You wasted my very expensive, very hard to find, whiskey on _disinfecting_ your wound?" Bellamy exclaimed.

"Sorry if I'm not interested in dying just yet. I still have some things to take care of. Besides, you wouldn't want your new crewmember to drop dead on you?" Clarke said with a shrug. She climbed back into her bed and drew up the sheets, ignoring the stunned look on the Captain's face.

"So you're a healer?" He said slowly, still shocked at the last stunning minute of his life.

"Mostly. I almost finished my training before I r- umm, before I left to the ship." Clarke said, catching herself right before accidentally spilling her secret. Bellamy gave her a blank look, his sleepy mind still processing the loss of his whiskey.

"We could use a healer. I guess that's your official title." He said with a smug look.

"I've always wanted to be a healer on a pirate ship. Been my dream since I was a little girl. Rescuing damsals in distress, killing innocents, and stealing all the gold I could ever want." Clarke said sarcastically. Bellamy just gave her an exasperated look and rolled his eyes.

"You can leave now. I need sleep." She said with a wave of dismissal. Bellamy, to say the least, was not amused. And so began their first night living on the same ship.

"Get back here, Princess. We're not done." Bellamy said, grabbing Clarke's arm and stopping her from walking away from him.

"So what? You can smack me around again?" Clarke spat back, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"If you're going to be a pirate, you need to learn how to fight." Bellamy said with a roll of his eyes.

"I can fight just fine!" Clarke retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. For the last hour or so, Bellamy had been "teaching" her how to fight with a sword, if his method was even close to teaching. All he did was toss a sword at her and then run at her, his rapier flying. Some of the crew had gathered to watch, chuckling at the duo's argument. So far, Clarke had only met Monty and Jasper, as well as the cook Harper, but that was it for people she knew on this boat.

"Obviously not. Why else would you be covered in bruises and complaining?" Bellamy said with an exasperated sigh.

"Maybe if you would actually _teach_ instead of this bullshit, I might actually learn something!" Clarke yelled. She stomped up to Bellamy and glared at him. She whipped the sword up in an attempt at cutting him, but he quickly parried her blow with a swift twitch of his hand. He glared right back, and then sighed again. He tightened his grip on his rapier, and thrust his hand in Clarke's face.

"This is how you hold a sword, not like a bird claw." He said. Clarke looked at the way Bellamy's hand gripped the hilt, and quickly fixed her grip on her sword to match it, holding it up next to his for comparison.

"Now hold it in front of you, like this. No, like _this._" Bellamy stated, adjusting Clarke's feet position. He twisted her around so that she was standing in a proper fighting stance; her feet perpendicular to each other and knees bent to lower her center of gravity. Her right arm was parallel to the ship's dock, the sword gripped tightly in her hand. Bellamy was standing in the same position next to her as an example.

"Now up! That's how to block a blow from above, and down like this- good, for below. The same things for the sides. To attack, just thrust or swipe your sword-no, that's wrong. Just twist your wrist, there you go." Bellamy kept correcting Clarke's position and grip over and over again, running through the same simulations and movements until she had them down for the next hour or so.

Panting, Clarke wiped the copious amount of sweat from her brow, her muscles trembling. Who knew sword fighting was so intense. She'd sparred with Bellamy again after going through the beginning techniques, and had lasted almost ten times as long before he inevitably beat her.

"See? It's harder than it looks. Now go back to your quarters. I have actual work to do." Bellamy said, sheathing his sword and strolling away into his captain's quarters. Clarke just stared after the rude man with an indignant look on her face.

"Don't worry. He's always like that. You'll get used to it. Eventually." A voice laughed from above Clarke. She looked over to see a feminine hand extended out to help her up. Clarke grasped the hand, grateful for the help in getting up. Her injury still stung whenever she moved, and sword fighting wasn't helping her recovery.

"I'm not surprised, honestly. He looks like an ass, walks like an ass, and talks like an ass." Clarke snarled. The laugh rang out again, and Clarke greeted her helper. An attractive woman who seemed to be a year or so younger than Clarke had her head thrown back in laughter, and Clarke swore the girl looked just like the asshat of a captain.

"I'm Octavia, Octavia Blake. Nice to meet you." The girl, Octavia, said, extending her hand out to shake Clarke's. Clarke shook the girl's hand and introduced herself.

"Clarke. Are you related to Captain Dickhead by any chance?" She asked.

"Yea, Captain Dickhead is my older brother." Octavia said with a smile. Clare would've apologized for insulting her brother, but he really was a dickhead and she was a pirate now, so manners didn't matter anymore.

"He told me you're our new healer. That's good. We've needed one for a while." Octavia chattered, following Clarke down to her room. After a day or so of confusion, Clarke had finally figured out how to get to the deck and to the kitchens from her little cabin, but knew nothing else about the ship.

"…one time and that was bad. I never knew fire could do that to a person's skin. Why are you going this way? Didn't Bell put you in the West cabin?" Octavia asked.

"I guess, but this is the only way I know to get there." Clarke said with a shrug, stumbling down the hall. She was still getting used to walking on a constantly moving boat, and had not gained her sealegs just yet. Octavia, on the other hand, was balanced perfectly and walked fine on the rolling ship.

"You didn't get a tour? That asshole, I'll have to talk to him about that. Come on, let me show you around." Octavia grumbled, linking her arm with Clarke's and leading her through another part of the ship. Clarke's mental map of the ship developed as Octavia led her on the tour, showing her the first level with the upper deck and helm and captain's quarters, and the second level; where her room was located as well as the kitchen's and a few other cabins, as well as the crew's sleeping quarters- which consisted of a bunch of hammocks and some beds spread out everywhere with a few bins for clothes and other personal items. Clarke was glad she didn't sleep in that room, not liking the lack of privacy and cleanliness. Although the entire ship wasn't the cleanest in the world, Clarke's room was at least organized. Being raised in a castle where every spec of dust and dirt was swept away by a small army of servants.

"And under here is the cargo bay. We mainly keep food supplies and weapons ammunitions down here. The gold and treasure is locked away in Bell's cabin, as well as other secret places. Every crew member has their own stash somewhere." Octavia said. Clarke's mind went to the little pocket of cloth filled with enough gold to raise a few families in comfort strapped to her thigh. She really needed to find a better place to put it. During her training, the pocket of gold had almost slid down her leg multiple times, causing Clarke to stumble and get struck by the captain.

"Thanks, Octavia. I think I can manage around now." Clarke smiled.

"No problem. Can't have our healer getting lost now can we?" Octavia replied. Clarke's heart swelled. Even though she was basically a captive on a _pirate_ ship surrounded by criminals, she felt more at home than she had since her father had died. Octavia was the closest thing to a friend Clarke had had, and she was almost a stranger to Clarke. With a heavy heart, Clarke waved good-bye her new friend and retreated into her cabin after grabbing a hunk of bread and some soup from the kitchen. Clarke sat on her bed, slowly eating her food and staring out the porthole window at the clear blue waters and sky. As the sun started to fall closer to the horizon, the sky burst into a beautiful mixture of reds and oranges and purples. Clarke wished she had some of her art supplies with her so she could capture the relaxing image to keep forever.

Clarke bit her lip and stared at her duffel bag lying on the floor next to her bed. She quickly climbed off the mattress, praying to whatever gods there were for a miracle.

"AHA! Yes!" Clarke shouted in excitement. She pulled out a box containing some charcoal and pastels wrapped in some paper from within her bag and clutched it to her chest. She would be okay, she had her art supplies, some food, and a beautiful image to draw. Clarke quickly positioned herself on the floor so that she had a perfect view of the sunset. She used the white pastel to sketch out a quick outline and then blocked out some of the colors, slowly adding more detail and complexity as time went on. By the time she had gotten a basic sketch finished, the sun had set and the room was almost pitch black, save for the light of the stars and the small gas lamp Clarke had dragged down from her wall. Her entire body was relaxed and she lied on her stomach so that she could gaze at her work in progress. Adding some more yellow to a section, Clarke started to hum. The tune of an old lullaby her father used to sing to her as a little girl filled the empty room, complimented by the scratching of her fingers against the paper.

Clarke's door slammed open, startling the girl and causing her to scatter her pastels to all corners of the room.

"What the f- you scared me!" Clarke exclaimed, crawling around to gather her runaway pastels.

"Sorry Princess. We need you for- what are you doing?" The Captain asked. He'd barged into her room so suddenly and didn't even care that he disturbed her peace. Clarke rolled her eyes and glared at the captain in her doorway.

"You barged in so _rudely _and made me mess up my pastels. But what's going on?" Clarke asked, changing the subject away from her own superficial troubles at the serious look in Bellamy's eyes. Bellamy glanced over at her drawing, which was still on the floor, and raised an eyebrow in appreciation.

"Come on, we've got an injury." He said, turning away and starting to walk away. Clarke jumped up, grabbed her med kit and rushed after the captain, firing out questions.

"What happened? Where are they? Is it bad? Where is the wound? Could there have been poison involved? Knife or bullet?" Clarke asked, giving the man no time to respond.

"Just come on already. You'll see." Bellamy said stiffly. Clarke huffed, but stayed quiet as he walked through the depths of the ship.

"We sent some of the crew out to scope out a prison camp. We have people there, and we're going to get em out soon. Only one came back, and he's pretty fucked up right now. I need you to do all you can so he doesn't die, at least not yet." Bellamy explained quietly. Clarke's eyebrows tied together, a memory of the castle pushing to the surface. She shoved it back down and focused on the task at hand. No time to think about the prison camps true purposes.

"Why are we going down? Isn't he on the deck?" Clarke asked after noticing that Bellamy was leading her down deeper into the ship towards the cargo bay.

"We had to get him away from everyone." He replied simply, as if it was enough of an explanation. Scowling, Clarke quickened her pace. Bellamy was taller and had longer legs, already giving him an advantage, but now he was practically running and Clarke had trouble keeping up.

"Open up! It's me." Bellamy called. He banged on one of the doors that led into the cargo bay impatiently. The door swung open just wide enough for the two of them to slid in individually, then slammed closed.

"Cap, he ain't doing so good." A man said, wringing his hands together nervously. Clarke looked around the dark room, squinting to try and see her patient. Her _first_ real patient. Sudden nervous butterflies filled her stomach and her grip tightened on the med kit in her arms.

"Where is he?" Clarke asked. She took a deep breath and focused her mind on the task at hand. She had a life to save. The teachings of her Master came back to her, helping Clarke block out unnecessary feelings and adopt a healer's professionalism.

"O-over there." The man who'd opened the door stuttered, pointing to a cot on the floor in the middle of the room. The few people in the room, Clarke assumed they were the people who'd launched the mission, avoided the cot. Clarke narrowed her eyes and slowly approached the cot. As she drew closer, she could hear sparse, wet breathing coming from the person on the cot. She knelt down next to the patient, her heart sinking in her chest.

The man on the cot was covered in burns, and his eyes were blank and milky. Some of his bones were peeking out of the burned masses of flesh and skin encasing his entire body. The clothes he had been wearing were fused with his skin, and wet tears filled his blind eyes. His chest shuddered as he struggled to breath. Clarke brushed some of his hair off of his face.

"Can, can you do anything?" Bellamy asked. He'd crouched down next to Clarke, and his eyes searched her face for a sign of hope, finding none.

"W-we were on the i-island about to leave w-when _it _appeared. It was a y-yellow f-fog, and it k-killed Thomas before we realized it was a-acid. W-we hid, but Atom was s-still…" A girl muttered, curled into the fetal position on the floor.

"…k-ki…" A weak voice cracked. Clarke quickly hunched over the man, Atom, on the cot to try and hear what he was saying. Bellamy moved over across from Clarke so that he was kneeling on the other side of Atom and leaned in to hear too.

"K-ki-ll," Atom stammered. Clarke grabbed his hand gently, understanding what he was asking already.

"What is it?" Bellamy implored.

"…ki-ll m-m-ee." Atom choked out, tears falling from his blind eyes. Bellamy jerked away in shock, his mouth hanging open. Clarke gazed at the captain in sympathy, knowing it was a difficult choice. Bellamy pulled out a small knife from his waist, his grip shaky. He looked at Clarke, his eyes filled with pain and indecision. Clarke just stared at him softly. She took the knife from his shaking hands and started humming. It was the tune to the lullaby her father sang to her as a little girl. She hummed softly, the soothing melody causing Atom to relax. Clarke kept humming as she placed the knife on Atom's neck, right next to his jugular. She took a deep breath and continued to hum, then sunk the knife in his neck. She squeezed his hand as Atom shook and gurgled for a minute. His body slowly grew lifeless, the choking sounds of his breathing died away as Atom died.

"Bellamy stared at the healer in shock. She was still humming, and tears filled her eyes. She had done what he could not- _kill_. Some newfound respect rose within the captain as he realized how strong the little princess was already and how much stronger she could become.

After Clarke returned to her room, she stared in the dark at the sunset she had drawn earlier, her heart aching. She bent down and picked up the scattered pastels, ignoring how much her hands shook. The image of Atom's lifeless body still lying on the floor stuck in her mind. Bellamy had taken the knife from her hands, giving her a thankful look and ordered some of the crew to wrap up his body and take it to the upper deck for a funeral.

Before the mourning crew could, however, Octavia had burst into the room. She saw Atom's body and immediately ran over and knelt next to his body, placing her head on his scarred chest to listen for a heartbeat. Clarke watched the tears fill Octavia's eyes as she realized he was gone. Octavia's lower lip quivered and she started sobbing. She clutched his body and cried out for a lost love taken too soon. Bellamy reached out and wrapped himself around his sister, muttering comforts into her ear. Octavia had calmed enough to hear what had happened to Atom a few minutes later, and even though Clarke had _killed_ her lover's life, Octavia stood up and solemnly pulled the shaken blonde into a hug, and _thanked_ her for ending his suffering. Clarke was shocked. Octavia had been one of the people to lift Atom's body up in the air and bring him to the deck, tears streaming down her face as she did.

Clarke eventually stopped reaching for the art supplies and just sat on the floor against the foot of her bed. She looked at the soft blue pastel, and it suddenly blurred and changed into a bloody knife. Clarke yelped and dropped the pastel as if it were a burning hot metal pan. Clarke lowered her face in her hands and took deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Her Master had prepared her for this. For when she would take a life. When she would become a _killer._

"He was in so much pain, so much. And I helped him. He isn't suffering anymore." Clarke muttered to herself until she calmed down. She brushed the blonde strands out of her face and finished picking up the pastels and placed them back in her bag and set the bag between the mattress and the wooden frame underneath her bed for safe keeping. She picked up the drawing and placed it on top of the small cabinet in the corner of her room, after quickly scribbling a note in the corner.

"Clarke. Everyone's awake. We're ready." Bellamy called through her door. Clarke greeted the captain with a small sad smile. She followed him up and out on the deck, where the crew was gathered around Atom's body. Some were crying, others barely holding back tears, or comforting those around them. Octavia stood with the crew who had gone on the mission with Atom, each holding a burning torch. In the dark cool night, the torches provided barely enough light and warmth for the grieving crew, making them huddle closer together to keep warm and provide the needed human comfort in the loss of a friend. Clarke stayed close to the back, letting Bellamy walk up to the front of the crowd, which parted for him like a river around a stone.

Bellamy's shoulders were hunched and his face expressing the sorrow of every person standing on the deck. He stood up tall and straightened his posture, looking through the crowd.

"I'm sure all of you are wondering why I got you up so late, and what happened. Today we lost one of our own. Today we lost a friend. As I'm sure you all know, some of our people are trapped in a prison camp not too far from where we are now. Atom was part of a scouting mission to gain information about the camp so we can finally bring our people home." Bellamy paused, and looked over at Atom's body with a grievous sigh.

"He didn't make it. During the mission, he was injured by some strange fog. Atom fought to free our enslaved crew, our enslaved _friends. _And for that, I cannot thank him enough for his sacrifice. His death helped bring us critical information about the island, about the camp. With his sacrifice, we can- we _will,_ save our people. Today we send off Atom to sail the mighty seas forever. He will be remembered, and he will be missed." Bellamy concluded. He nodded to one of the torch bearers, and they each grabbed a hold of the cot Atom was on and carried it to the railing. They opened up a hatch on the side of the ship so that there was a space for Atom to fall from the ship. Octavia then walked over with her head held high and dropped her torch onto the sheet covering his marred body. When the flames spread along enough of the cloth, Octavia kicked the cot off of the ship, sending Atom into the sea with a fiery sendoff.

"May we meet again!" Octavia cried.

"May we meet again!" The rest of the crew bellowed.

"Sleep in tomorrow. We'll have a day of mourning, and then back to work! Now go to sleep!" Bellamy ordered. The crew dispersed slowly, most walking up to give Octavia words of comfort or hugs. Clarke slowly faded into the background and she crept away from the people and quietly returned to her cabin for a night of restless nightmares.

Clarke got up and dressed a little before dawn, after tossing and turning all night. The memories of the night before kept her up, and she barely got any sleep. She stumbled into the empty kitchen and grabbed a roll of bread to nibble on. She slowly explored the ship for an hour or so while the rest of the crew slept. Eventually she found herself back in the cargo bay, staring at the blood staining the dark wood. She silently left the bay and found herself on the upper deck. Clarke leaned on the railing and stared out at the quiet sea, the rising sun shining against the blue waters and lighting up the sky in a rainbow of color. Clarke closed her eyes and breathed in the clear sea air, the rocking of the ship and sounds of the waves lulling her into unconsciousness.

Bellamy hadn't slept a wink last night, and he decided to wake up the Princess a little early for training. He needed to get this nervous energy out of his system somehow, and fighting seemed like the perfect way to clear his mind. He grabbed a roll and an apple from the kitchen and headed for Clarke's cabin, munching on his breakfast. He knocked on the door, and when silence answered, he barged in.

"Rise and shine Princess! Time for-" Bellamy froze when he saw the undisturbed empty bed, and empty room. He looked around a bit, and wondered where on earth the crazy blonde could be. His gaze landed on the colorful drawing she had been working on the night before, and he grabbed it off the cabinet for a closer look. The drawing itself was beautiful, and captured the sunset on the sea perfectly. Bellamy wondered where she learned to draw like this, the mystery of the rich girl growing bigger. He almost dropped the paper, however, when he saw the small inscription in the corner.

**Dedicated to Atom, a brave soul.**

**May we meet again.**

Bellamy carefully placed the drawing back on the cabinet and quietly left the room. He'd seen Clarke at the funeral last night, and knew she didn't respond in the chant with the rest of the crew. At first he'd thought she didn't understand their Kingdom's funeral customs, but she obviously did. The captain grumbled, and swore he would beat her sorry ass during training. He walked up onto the deck, and rolled his eyes at the sight before him. The foolish Princess had fallen asleep on the deck. She was slumped against the ship's railing, as if she had come out here for some air and fallen asleep against the railing for no good reason. Her blonde hair shone in the sunlight, and the image made quite the sight. Bellamy grinned devilishly and cracked his knuckles, ready to give the slumbering girl a very rude awakening.

Clarke hadn't realized she'd actually fallen asleep until she woke up, feeling quite strange. She slowly opened her eyes, her head pounding and her ankles ached for some reason. She looked around, or rather _down_ at the blue ocean beneath her head. Clarke blinked. She was swaying back and forth, _upside down_, tied by her ankles above the fucking middle of the ocean.

"Bellamy! I'm gonna fucking kill you, you bastard!" Clarke screamed angrily. She heard laughter from her right, and looked over to see the captain laughing smugly on the deck of the ship. He'd somehow been able to tie her up by her ankles and swing her up on the mast and out over the water. It wasn't the fact that she was strung up upside down that frightened Clarke, it was the fact that she was hanging by a literal thread over the middle of the ocean, and that she _couldn't swim_. She knew it was pathetic for a pirate to not be able to swim, but how was Clarke to know she would sail the seas as a pirate one day, a Princess didn't need to know how to swim.

There was no way on earth Clarke was going to admit her lack of skill to the smug captain, however. She would rather drown, which was looking to be likely at this point.

"This is why you don't fall asleep in strange places, Princess. You never know what'll happen." The captain said with a shrug and a smile from on the deck. Clarke scowled and started to swing her body back and forth to gain momentum. She would escape this situation and kick the captain right in the balls, if he even had any. Clarke couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at the thought of the smug Captain in a ball on the floor with tears in his eyes as he clutched his most precious cargo.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Bellamy asked.

"This isn't the first time I've been tied up with a strange man." Clarke said sarcastically, smiling when the Captain's mouth twitched in amusement. She'd gained enough momentum to try and swing up and grab either the rope or the wooden mast. Right as she was about to swing up and grab it, her stitches burst open and she cried out in pain.

Clarke muttered curses and gritted her teeth to fight the urge to scream. Bellamy looked at her questioningly, but when he saw the blood staining her shirt, he understood.

"Shit." He said simply. He disappeared from Clarke's field of vision, to try and pull her in she assumed, but Clarke took a deep breath and swung up to grab the mast through the pain. She clung to the wood for dear life, panting and sweaty. She hung on as Bellamy pulled the mast over above the deck, and then she let go and fell onto the deck clumsily, but on her own two feet.

"You alright? Sorry, I forgot about it." Bellamy apologized. He slumped down to swing Clarke's arm over his shoulders to support her weight and helped her limp over to a barrel she could sit on. Clarke hissed and lifted up her shirt to inspect the damage. It wasn't too bad, her stitches had just torn a little and the blood was only from some superficial cuts.

"It's alright, it's not that bad. Can you go grab my med-kit?" Clarke asked calmly. The captain obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and swiftly returned with the sac. Clarke opened it up and grabbed out a newly sterile needle she'd cleaned the other day and some thread. She lifted up her shirt and stuffed the end into her mouth to keep it out of the way. She had just thread the needle and begun to stick it in the wound when Bellamy cried out.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Don't you need painkillers or something sterile?" He asked aghast. Clarke just stared at him, the needle half stuck in her side.

"I'shm jusht goin shto redo muy shtitshes." Clarke grumbled out around the cloth in her mouth.

"You can't just stitch yourself up like it's nothing! Doesn't it hurt?" Bellamy asked exasperated. Clarke shrugged, then continued to redo her stitches. Bellamy watched nervously, and paced around the deck tensely. Clarke tied off the string and grabbed some gauze from her bag and started to wrap it around her torso to make it more secure.

"It's not a big deal. Not like it's the first time." Clarke said when she finished. The captain just stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"What have you had to live through?" He asked softly. Clarke stiffened, memories she'd tried to forget pushing up to the front of her mind. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"What I had to, so I could survive." She replied.

**Wahh! Atom died! Just a small development point, we're going to be getting to the fun stuff soon. Tell me what ya think, and I hope you liked it! I'm terrible at death scenes...**


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy had said something about cancelling training, then helped Clarke to her cabin despite her many protests and disappeared. Clarke sighed and put her med kit back on the cabinet. She looked at the drawing on the cabinet and sighed again. Clarke groaned and rubbed her torso, the throbbing pain still pulsing through her body. She reached under her mattress and grabbed the bag of herbs she'd hidden there. Clarke dug out the painkiller and tore off a few leaves before returning the bag to its hiding place. Clarke quickly, well as fast as she could, walked to the kitchen to find something to boil some water in, instinctively bringing her sketch pad and pencils with her. Clarke grabbed a pot and poured some water in it, then stuck it in the fire pit to heat up.

She confessed, making a fire was harder than it looked, but after a few tries she figured it out. While she waited, Clarke started to chop up and grind the leaves. When the water was boiling, Clarke poured it into a mug and tossed in the crushed leaves, making a makeshift tea. She stirred the water with her finger, wincing at the heat, and then gulped down the concoction. Her face scrunched up as the nasty bitter tasting liquid passed down her through her throat. Clarke shuddered and stuck her tongue out and made a disgusted noise.

"That doesn't look appetizing." An amused voice called. Clarke turned around, startled, but relaxed when she saw Octavia propped up against the threshold. Clarke could tell that Octavia had spent her night crying and not sleeping, based on the redness of her eyes and bleary gaze.

"It's medicine. It's not supposed to taste good, that's a requirement." Clarke muttered wryly, recalling all the herbs and concoctions her Master had made her drink to understand their effects and what she was putting her patients through. The corner of Octavia's mouth twitched up, but the girl's eyes displayed her true mournful feelings. Clarke fought the urge to draw the beautifully sorrowful profile Octavia made as she leaned against the wooden threshold. It was that moment when she noticed that she'd brought her sketching supplies with her, and Clarke mentally slapped herself. She knew that the little booklet could blow her cover, since it was filled with sketches of the palace and even royals and nobles. For some reason, Clarke wasn't all that worried. Octavia was one of her closest friends, ever, even though Clarke had only known the girl for a few days.

"Hey Octavia, do you mind if I ask a question?" Clarke asked hesitantly. She wanted to know more about the crew and their current rescue mission, but didn't want to ask the obnoxious Captain, who would probably just laugh her questions off and say she didn't need to know.

"Sure, shoot." Octavia said, pushing herself off the wall and sitting down next to Clarke on the bench.

"Where's the captured crew being held? And how long have they been there? Do you know if the Captain is going to rescue them soon?" Clarke asked, rapid fire style.

"Woah, woah, woah. One at a time." Octavia said. Clarke smiled apologetically and waited for the girl to respond.

"What I do know, is that about a year ago, some of the crew were taken on a job and imprisoned in a prison camp. It took us forever to find out which one, but we found out they're being held at Washington Camp. Bell doesn't share a lot about this- since he treats me like a baby, the bastard, but I do know that in a couple of weeks we're going to be right next to the island the camp is on, and that Bell is planning on launching a rescue mission." Octavia explained.

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. They were at Washington, that wasn't a bad camp to be at, compared to what Clarke had seen and been through. Some of the scars on Clarke's back ached just thinking about what had happened in one camp she "visited."

Right after her father died, Clarke had gone through a "rebellious phase," which included digging through some files and information she shouldn't have. As a result, she'd went undercover at a camp she had read about, thinking she was such a badass and would bring justice to her father's death. How wrong she was. The camp she decided to check into was Walden, and it was absolute hell. For the year she'd spent in that hellhole, she endured endless torture. Walden, at that time, was a camp where the wardens perfected torture techniques, and tested gruesome weapons for wartimes. Until her mother had finally been able to free Clarke from Walden, she'd learned the truth about the kingdom she would inherit and decided to run away and find a way to topple the corrupt system.

"Thank God. They're only at Washington, that's a baby compared to some of the camps." Clarke breathed. Octavia gave her a strange look, and raised her eyebrow questioningly. Crumbling under the pressure of one single eyebrow the girl possessed, Clarke spilled her thoughts.

"I've sorta, been in Washington? So I know what it looks like and how it runs. It's a long story," Clarke explained quickly. She had actually visited Washington as a Princess inspecting what she believed to be the generic punishment system she would run when she became Queen, boy was she wrong.

"What the hell? You've been in a _prison camp_?" Octavia shouted. Clarke shushed the girl, and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear.

"Not just one, but that's a story for another time. I think I can help you guys get your people out of there." Clarke said quietly.

"Bellamy! You better get your ass out here!" Octavia screamed, pounding on the door to the Captain's quarters, her hands on her hips. Clarke looked around cautiously, not wanting to disturb the rest of the crew. It was still relatively early, even if Clarke had taken an impromptu nap. Right as Octavia was about to begin her loud onslaught again, the door swung open to reveal a very disgruntled Bellamy. He glared down at his sister and crossed his arms.

"What on earth do you want? I should float you for making so much racket on a mourning day." Bellamy growled.

"It's important, move." Octavia said stubbornly. She pushed against Bellamy's- _bare_, chest and pulled Clarke into the cabin with her. Clarke tried to keep her gaze away from Bellamy's muscular torso, but she had to admit that although the Captain was a total ass on the inside, he was pretty hot on the outside.

"Like what you see, Princess?" Bellamy teased as he pulled on a shirt.

"Eh, I've seen better. Looks like you're getting a bit flabby, oh Mighty Strong Captain." Clarke shot back. Bellamy just glared at her and turned to his sister.

"What's this about, O?" He asked. Clarke looked around the cabin, noting that it was surprisingly sparse and neat. She'd expected a pigsty based on what she had seen of the Captain so far. There was a small bed and some cabinets for storage littered around the room. A large desk covered in papers and maps took up most of the floor space, and Clarke gravitated towards it out of curiosity.

"Clarke here has been to Washington." Octavia said smugly. The captain's eyes widened and he looked at Clarke in shock.

"You were in a prison camp? _You?"_ He asked in astonishment. Clarke nodded, not wanting to tell him that she'd been to the worst of them and survived.

"I know the inside and outside like the back of my hand. I can get us in, and get your people out." She said. Bellamy nodded pensively and leaned his arms against the desk, looking over plans.

"Tell me." He said simply.

For the next hour, Clarke sketched out the floor plans and guard rotations, explaining how the scheduling worked and how they could sneak in and out.

"Washington is the pretty boy of the Camps, all kinds of nobles and Royal Ambassadors go there to make sure Arc isn't up to no good. Because of this, the prisoners are decently cared for, although it is definitely not a five star inn. Your people should be mostly alright, except for some malnutrition and maybe some sicknesses. The wardens only punish the really mischievous and rebellious ones with a few lashes or a beating." Clarke explained. Bellamy and Octavia exchanged a silent conversation, and Clarke sighed.

"I'm guessing that your people are the rebellious ones." Bellamy nodded and his face lit up with a proud smile.

"We've got five people in there, Jess, Monroe, James, Finn, and Raven. Raven's definitely going to be a bit beat up." He said. Clarke nodded and continued to formulate a plan with him, pointing to the general areas she guessed some of the prisoners would be based on how they would behave.

"Alright, now how are you gonna get us in, Princess?" Bellamy asked, giving her a challenging look. She glanced nervously at Octavia, not sure if she wanted to reveal herself just yet.

"I'm technically a noble, and I should be able to get us in pretty easily. I'll just need the proper…equipment." Clarke murmured. Bellamy's eyebrows rose, and Octavia squealed.

"I knew it! There's no way you were a common thief! What house are you from? What's it like being a noble?" Octavia asked excitedly. Clarke knew she wasn't lying, just understating the truth a bit.

"Maybe I should start calling you milady." The Captain teased.

"Don't call me anything! I have a name." Clarke spat. Both the Blake siblings quieted at her outburst.

"Sorry, it's a long story." Clarke groaned, rubbing her temple.

"I'm starting to get the feeling that it always is with you." Bellamy muttered to himself. She ignored his comment, and made sure he understood the plan so far.

"So what exactly do you need?" Octavia asked eventually.

"I'll need the fanciest and nicest dress you guys have, and some very expensive jewelry." Clarke directed the last part to the captain, knowing that he would have a stash of stolen jewels hidden away somewhere. Bellamy stared at her blankly for a few minutes.

"You're telling me. To get my prized jewels. And just, let you_ borrow_ them?" He exclaimed. Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Obviously. Chop chop, if you want to rescue your crew." She replied. Bellamy gave her a stubborn look before sighing and banging his head down on the desktop.

"I'll get your damn jewels. But you better give em back, and I'll be with you while your wearing them. Plus, you are definitely not battle ready if this comes to a fight." Bellamy said, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm not some spoiled, useless brat. I know what I'm doing." Clarke spat.

"I'm not saying that, _your highness,_ I'm saying that even though I'm a pirate, I'm not going to let someone- noble or not, die while trying to help me." Bellamy said through gritted teeth. Octavia smiled, looking between Clarke and the Captain expectantly. Clarke blushed, and looked down at the plans, clearing her throat.

"Well, then you better teach me how to fight then. Cause I do not plan on dying anytime soon." Clarke muttered in reply.

"So, we really do have a princess on board. Looks like my little name wasn't that far off," Bellamy grunted as he parried a left swipe of Clarke's sword. Panting, Clarke quickly stepped out of range of Bellamy's next attack and the two danced around each other for a minute.

"I'm not even that important in the grand scheme of things. Just a third born daughter of a low ranking family." Clarke lied. She was having a hard time keeping up with the Captain's brutal training regime, and yet he had barely broken a sweat.

"Still, a noble is a noble." Bellamy smirked. Clarke rolled her eyes and swiftly spun to avoid the slash of his sword, and quickly ducked, feinting a swipe to his legs and then lunging upwards and thrusting the sword behind Bellamy's sword arm and against his throat.

"Better watch out, Captain." Clarke said challengingly. Bellamy just lifted an eyebrow, then with a flick of his wrist sent Clarke's sword spiraling out of her hand and onto the deck a few feet away.

"Don't hesitate, Princess. When the time comes, do what you have to do." The captain said darkly. Clarke just gritted her teeth and nodded, leaning against one of the main mast posts and slowly lowering herself onto the deck to sit and rest. After going over the plan with Miller and Murphy, the first and second officers of Bellamy's crew, the captain had dragged her back to her room to rest for the day. Clarke only agreed if Bellamy agreed to begin his training anew the next morning. Despite Clarke's injury, she agreed to be beat around in order to improve in the short two weeks before landing on Washington Island.

Bellamy slumped down next to Clarke and handed her a jug of water. She gladly accepted it and drank deeply. The cool water refreshed Clarke's exhausted mind and muscles.

"You are getting better. Not by much, but still." Bellamy commented.

"Gee, thanks." Clarke replied sarcastically. She took a few deep breaths and groaned.

"I never knew my body could be so sore, and that's saying something. One time, I had to dig myself out of a collapsed mine just to survive. That was really rough, and even-" Clarke clamped her mouth shut. Unknowingly, she had begun to spill about one of her trials in Walden. Clarke quickly handed the water jug back to the curious captain and stood up.

"Well, let's get back to it." She said in an attempt to change the topic of conversation. She avoided looking at Bellamy and walked over to her fallen sword, picking it up and twiddling with the handle anxiously.

"I don't know how a noble got into a prison camp, but whatever happened to you, I can promise will never happen again. Just trust me." Bellamy said gently. He wrapped his hands around Clarke's shaking ones and held them for a minute in his warm grasp, then shifted her fingers into the proper hold for fighting.

"Let's get back to it." He said with a cough. Clarke smiled in thanks, and the two attacked each other again.

"Ughh. I am so sore…why me?" Clarke groaned. It was the evening of her third day of hardcore training. Her injury was healing nicely, even though it still ached and caused her more pain than Clarke would like. But Clarke didn't have time for the stupid hole in her stomach. She had a kingdom to change.

"I gotta tell you, I feel for you, Clarke. I don't think I've seen anyone work as hard as you have these past few days." Octavia mumbled through the roll in her mouth. Both Clarke and Octavia were sitting next to each other out on the deck eating their dinner rations. Octavia had helped Clarke train too, teaching her more sneaky techniques and dirty tricks to use on her opponents rather than the honorable ones Bellamy taught Clarke. Clarke found her current situation amusing, since the suave pirate Captain was trying to make her into an honorable fighter while his little sister was teaching her how to fight like anyone else trying to survive.

"Yea, but not enough. I have to get better now." Clarke huffed.

"Slow down, girl. It's not like you don't have time. All you gotta do is get us into the camp and then get out. That's it. It's not like you're going to be in a war any time soon." Octavia laughed. Clarke forced a smile, thinking how wrong the girl was. Clarke tore a chunk off of her stale, bland jerky and sighed.

"What, this not a five star dinner? Well I'm so sorry my lady, we are pirates after all." Octavia chuckled, thinking Clarke didn't like her rations.

"This is better than no food at all." Clarke replied softly. Her mind wandered back to her year at Walden, and the man who had helped her survive. Clarke forced the memories out of her mind, wondering why she kept thinking of that year and that man. He was dead to her. That's all that mattered.

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! Earlier today, while you were busy, I actually went into the armory, and guess what I found? It was that bastard…" Octavia rambled on about some drama happening on the ship, and Clarke relaxed, nodding and making aghast noises every so often to keep the girl satisfied.

"Clarke! Come here." A deep voice called. Clarke looked up to see the Captain standing outside his quarters and gesturing for her to join him. Clarke shook her head and raised her food as if to say: _I'm eating. Leave me alone._ Bellamy just rolled his eyes and glared at her. He raised an eyebrow in reply, and Clarke sighed.

"…but then, they grabbed-hmm?" Octavia looked up, stopping in the middle of her story to give Clarke a questioning look.

"The-Oh-Great-And-Powerful Captain is trying to starve me and keep me busy." Clarke snarled. Octavia looked between her brother and Clarke, a smile on her face. Clarke strolled over to where Bellamy was waiting, taking her own sweet time to look around the deck as if it was her first time ever on a ship and eat her food slowly.

"Get over here, god dammit." Bellamy growled, stomping into his cabin angrily. Smiling to herself, the princess strode into his cabin, expectant curiosity clear on her face.

"I've got those jewels you need." Bellamy said quietly, after checking around to make sure nobody was listening in or peeking. Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Really? That's what you brought me in here for?" She scoffed. Bellamy just curled his lip and brought out a velvet bag from his coat, and Clarke was starting to think his coat was endless on the inside. He untied the bag and emptied the contents onto his desk. Clarke raised one eyebrow, impressed at the scope of his stash. She brushed aside some emeralds and a few uncut rubies, and grabbed a diamond necklace on a gold chain. The necklace was simple, but elegant. A large diamond was the centerpiece of the necklace, and smaller diamonds and interlocking gold chain as well as some other precious stones spread around it like a web around a spider.

"Well? Pretty good, right?" Bellamy asked smugly. Clarke glanced at him, then chuckled to herself, thinking back to the royal crown jewels locked away in her palace vault, or even lying on her dresser. The rings and bracelets she had carelessly littered across her vanity in her youth were much more valuable than the captains entire stash combined.

"It'll do." She said, running her hand through her hair anxiously.

"What do you mean, 'it'll do'? These jewels were fucking hard to come by, and each could buy a castle!" Bellamy exclaimed. Sighing, the blonde separated the necklace and a bracelet along with a few more scattered jewels into one pile and shoved the rest back into the velvet bag.

"These are the only ones that'll work." Clarke said as she handed the bag back to the captain. Stunned, the man took the bag wordlessly and slipped it back into his coat.

"I can use these little jewels as a hairpiece and try to make them into a crown of some sorts. But I don't know… what if they aren't enough?" Clarke rambled. The captain sat down in his large ornate chair and rubbed his chin, watching as the girl across from him grabbed a spare paper and a pencil and started to draw out a design for the smaller jewels. Her teeth caught her lower lip, worrying at the pink flesh. Bellamy forced his gaze away from Clarke's lips and at the girl's face. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and she held some of her hair away from her face, not quite pulling back all the strands. Bellamy resisted the urge to lean over and brush the golden strands out of her face.

"…just a crown, or a tiara? I don't…how would I…just need _something_…" Clarke mumbled to herself, looking between the spare jewels and her outlines.

"Why would a noble need a crown?" Bellamy asked darkly. Clarke froze, realizing her mistake. She tried to calm her breathing and gulped.

"Just to emphasize my importance." She lied smoothly. The captain held her gaze, his stare unreadable and his brown eyes dark and threatening.

"Did I ever tell you about what happened when a member of my crew lied to me? To my face? No? Well, it's a great story. You see, this particular scumbag tried to take more than his share of a deal. Now, I'm a greedy bastard, but I'm a _fair_ greedy bastard. I didn't take too kindly to his theft, but I'm sure the fishes and the sharks sure did enjoy him after I tossed him overboard with a cannon strapped to his back." The captain said threateningly. He got up as he spoke and started moving towards Clarke. She stood her ground, and resisted the urge to run from the towering frame of the captain.

"An honorable pirate? I've never heard of one." Clarke stuttered.

"Very funny. I don't like it when a member of _my _crew lies to my face, Princess." Bellamy scowled. He was toe to toe with her now, and Clarke gulped. She could see how he had become such a successful Captain. She refused to be too intimidated, however, and raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Like it or not, Captain, I'm only on your ship for myself. I wouldn't be here if you hadn't seized that ship I was on, so it's not like I had a huge choice. Sure, everyone here is amazing and I _will_ get your people out of that camp, but only for _my own_ reasons. You are just going to have to trust that my own reasons are as powerful as you feelings for your crew." Clarke snarled. She held his gaze for a few more tense seconds, then walked away and slammed his door behind her.

Octavia quickly left the group she was chatting with and jogged over to Clarke.

"So, what did my brother want?" She asked cheerfully. Clarke scoffed and shook her head, muttering an answer. Octavia stared at the somber blonde as she disappeared below deck with a worried look.

"Bellamy, what the hell did you say to Clarke?" Octavia yelled after storming into her brother's cabin. Bellamy was seated at his desk with his head in his hands, and he lifted his head to gaze at his sister.

"The truth, which she apparently isn't willing to share." He growled. His dark eyes glittered dangerously and Octavia tensed. She knew what happened when Bellamy made that face; it meant he was serious and would find out what he wanted to know eventually, no matter the cost.

"Bell, you've gotta admit that she has a right to keep secrets from us. I mean, we did technically steal her along with the rest of that treasure." Octavia said reassuringly. She sat on the bench across from her brother's desk and leaned forward to grab his hand. She smiled gently. Bellamy just looked at his sister, and sighed in defeat. He knew she was right, but that didn't make him any happier.

"O, you didn't see the look on her face. She _knows _what it is like in one of those camps, and not a 'nice' one like Washington. She's not just some noble." Octavia tilted her head thoughtfully and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again.

"I think that Clarke has had a bad and painful past, like us. She'll tell us when she's ready, or at least she'll tell me." Octavia said after a pause. Bellamy blinked.

"What makes you think she won't tell her _captain?_" He asked blankly.

"Come on, Bell, it's not like you're the most welcoming of people! The first thing you did when she got here was beat her up, and you haven't even officially welcomed her here! Half the crew doesn't even know who she is." Octavia laughed. She knew her brother was dense, but still, this was a new level of thick-headedness.

Bellamy zoned out, as if he were trying to remember when he actually did, rather if, welcome Clarke to the crew. He hated it when his sister was right, she would never shut up about it now. Octavia laughed again and rose from the bench to leave, looking back at her brother one last time.

"I expect something later on, Bell." She said arrogantly as she strode out his door. Bellamy sat back in his chair, still trying to think of a time when he actually did something remotely welcoming for his newest crewmember.

Clarke stumbled into her room with a curse. Why did she have to be thinking about Walden? Or about _him?_ Her legs shook and she slid down her door and curled her knees up against her chest. Flashbacks of her year in hell flittered across her mind, and Clarke tried not to scream, and instead quick panicked breaths were the only sound she emitted.

_"Daddy? I had a bad dream. Is it alright if-" A young girl, fresh into her fifteenth year, asked softly as she pushed open the large door that lead into her fathers room. _

_ "Clarke? Sweetie, you have to go! Now!" Her father cried. Clarke stepped into the room, her lip trembling. _

_ "W-why? I just wanted to-" She stuttered, crying out as her father grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tight hug. Clarke's nose poked into her father's chest, a feat she had been proud of earlier. She was going to be as tall as him one day and rule the kingdom like he did. _

_ "It's too late now. I love you so much baby girl. Remember that okay? Now quickly. Hide here and stay quiet." The man dragged his daughter over to the far wall by his dresser and pressed something the girl couldn't see. She gasped as a section of the wall slid away to reveal a crawlspace big enough for her to hide in. _

_ "Daddy, what's happening?" She asked frightfully. Her father pushed her into the crawlspace and gently slid the door closed, leaving just a crack for some light. _

_ "Daddy wants you to be strong. Something is going to happen, and I need you to stay here and be quiet, no matter what. Be strong for me, my little princess." He said, holding his hand against the crack, as if reaching for his daughter one last time. Clarke nodded, curling up in the dark crawlspace. _

_ "I'll be strong." She whispered. She saw a glimpse of her father's face, and was shocked to see his eyes filled with tears. She had never seen him cry before. _

_ "I'll be strong. I'll be strong." The girl chanted softly, her voice trembling. All she wanted to do was run out and hug her father, to feel safe in his arms once again. The girl fell silent as the sound of glass breaking hit her ears. She cringed at the loud sound and pressed her face against the crack in an attempt to see what was happening. _

_ "Sorry about this, I really am." A familiar voice said. Clarke saw her father standing in the middle of the room, the light of the moon shining on him through the broken window. A dark figure approached him, and the girl wanted to scream for her father to run away from the bad man. _

_ "We both know that isn't true." The girl's father said. The figure laughed and the girl's eyes widened as she saw him draw a blade from within his cloak. She held her hand against her mouth to keep from screaming. The man lunged forward and the blade struck her father's heart, and the girl's as well. Silent tears fell from her eyes as she saw her father fall to the ground lifelessly, and the figure stabbed his body again and again and again and again. _

_ "I will be strong. I will be strong. I will be strong." The girl chanted in her mind. Even with her vision clouded by tears, she could still see the red staining the blade and the floor. The man in the cloak sighed, and wiped his blade on the comforter of her father's bed. He left the same way he came, and Clarke cried silently in the dark crawlspace for a few minutes. After she was sure the assassin was gone, she rushed out of her hiding place and ran to her father's side. _

_ "No no no no no! Daddy! No! You can't leave me! Don't leave me alone! I don't want to be alone again!" Clarke sobbed, clutching her father's robes in her hands. She shook his lifeless body, as if it would bring him back to life. Her training with the Healer made her sure that he was most definitely dead, but her heart refused to accept it. Her hand crumpled something hard inside his robe, and the girl drew it out with shaking hands. A thick envelope fell out of one of the robe's inner pockets, and Clarke saw her name written in her father's handwriting on the envelope. She tore it open hastily and a golden locket fell out onto her hand. The girl looked at the locket, recognizing it as her father's. The family locket with the royal crest engraved on it. She clutched the charm to her chest and pulled out a letter. _

_"My Dearest Clarke,_

_I wish I didn't have to leave you so soon, but something has happened. I want you to take this locket, since it is yours now. You are now the heir and true ruler of Arc Kingdom. I know you will rule wit the kindness and compassion and strength I could not. I regret bringing you into this mess, but it is your duty to take on the responsibility of the evil I have created. The prison camps are not what they seem. I wish I could tell you more, but even now I am being watched. I know my time left with you is limited, but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. _

_My special daughter. My little _Princess._"_

_ The girl sobbed and screamed her grief out into the night, holding the locket against her chest with all her strength. She screamed and cried until she was pulled away by one of the Royal Advisors and taken to wash away the King's blood on her hands. Clarke swore to get revenge and find out who killed her father that night. She cried her last tears as her father bled to death. _

"…Clarke? Clarke, you in there?" A voice boomed. A knock on the door pulled Clarke back into herself and she gasped. She hadn't had a flashback like that in years.

"Uhm, hmm, yea. I'm here." Clarke cleared her throat and tried to sound normal. Her hand gripped the locket around her neck and she leaned her head back against the door.

"The crew and I are going to have a celebration, to celebrate Adam's life and stuff. You should come. And meet the crew." Bellamy's voice called through the door. He sounded uncomfortable and she could hear his feet shuffling nervously.

"Did Octavia put you up to this?" She asked in amusement.

"What? No. Of course not. I just thought it would be nice for the crew to meet you officially. If you aren't going to come, you'll miss out on a great party. Monty's even going to bring out his moonshine."

"I might show up. Just a little tired. You beat the crap outta me earlier." Clarke replied, forcing a laugh. She heard Bellamy chuckle and his heavy footsteps disappeared down the hall. She took a shaky breath and jumped up, walking around her room and shaking out her nerves. Clarke pinched her cheeks to make sure she was back to normal, and then left her room to join in on the party.

**OOh! Some insight into Clarke's past! I hope you all liked it! And sorry for updating so late! School always drags me down, but I should be able to start updating more regularly when the semester dies down a bit. I've also decided to reply to the reviewers down here, so skip over if you don't want to see them!**

**SCROLLPIRATE: Thanks for pointing that out! I have trouble with that sometimes. I tried to tone it down a bit in this chapter, and I hope it's better! I'm glad you like it, and I'm trying to write Clarke as she was when she first got on the ground and didn't trust anybody. There will be some character development as she grows more comfortable with the 100!**

**123A456E: I'm happy you like it! Don't worry, there will be a wide range of reactions when her identity is revealed. Some good, but also a lot bad. Clarke's in for some rough times, that's all I'm gonna say. **

**DOUBLL: I try to make Clarke as badass as I can, while keeping her in character, since that's how I view her. I like it too!**

**GUEST: I am gonna keep this going for a while if you all like it!**

**LIABLAKE: I figured Atom's death was an important moment for Clarke, and for Clarke and Bellamy's relationship, so it just had to be included. **

**ZARA: It makes me unbelievably happy that you like it! I can't wait either, but I want it to be a slow burn, kinda like the show I guess. **

**GUEST: THAT MAKES ME SO HAPPY ILY! Your mom must be very surprised too. I'm glad you like it! **

**MORE1WEASLEY: Your wish is my command, I'm glad you like it! Thanks so much!**

**BLUECOKEANDWAFFLES: I want to write more from his perspective since he's important too, and we never get to see how he feels about Clarke and how his emotions develop in most fanfics.**

** 100: I'm writing, I promise! **

**GUEST: I'm sorry to keep you waiting! I'm glad you like it, and now you can be satisfied!**

**Alright, I think that's all for now, so thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it! 3**


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